Unfortunately, I'm not getting anything emailed to me from the Fanfiction website right now – no "review alerts," nothing. So if anyone's sent me a PM recently, I haven't gotten it. Sorry about that.

But I will say that the word in question was indeed "sociopath."

Edited to fix date.

Disclaimer: Rob Thomas created Veronica Mars. I don't think he'd want anything to do with this version, though.

X X X X X

So. You may be asking, how did I get this way?

I hit the genetic lottery.

I was born with an advantage a lot of other people don't have.

I've looked up the definition in medical journals. What I am is supposed to be some kind of "mental disorder." Like it's a mental disorder not to have to wade through all the moral BS that the rest of you have to deal with every day. I personally consider myself one of the luckiest people on the face of the earth. (Yeah, I know, I stole that line from Lou Gehrig, But, honestly, how can someone who was dying of a fatal illness consider himself "lucky?" What an idiot.)

Oh. Does that offend you? Well, I'm sorry.

Actually, I'm not, but I've learned to say that.

I took very careful note of that definition, though. People like me are supposed to be prone to pyromania and be cruel to animals – and to have a "callous disregard" for both rules and the feelings of others. I've learned. I'm never cruel to animals, I've never casually set fires (except in the barbecue, which I think is still socially acceptable), and I very rarely publicly scorn rules or the feelings of others. I work and play well with others.

I've learned to play by the rules most of the time. For instance, though it would have been ridiculously easy for me to cheat at school, I never have. For one thing, it's rarely been anything I've needed to do, and for another, what would have happened had I been caught wasn't worth the reward, most of the time. (If it ever is – like, if it's necessary for me to win the Kane Scholarship – I'll do it, believe me. But until then --)

That's the major reason to play by the rules that I can see: the consequences if you're caught. You always have to think of consequences. It's what ultimately ended up costing Lilly Kane her life. (Don't worry, I'm getting back to that. I said I would, didn't I? Trust me.)

I bet some of you are actually trusting me right now.

Anyway. I was born back in 1987 to Keith and Lianne Mars. I found out later there was a question of my parentage -- turns out mom and ol' Jakey Kane were having an affair way back when -- and sent in some DNA to be tested as soon as I could.

Unfortunately, I wasn't Jake Kane's daughter. I could have used the money.

Not that I have anything against Keith Mars. Really, I don't. He's taught me an awful lot about the criminal mind, and interrogation techniques, and all of that. I told him it was because I wanted to be a lawyer when I grew up. I may very well do that at some point; it could be useful. Anyway, the idea of getting criminals off on technicalities -- or maybe even putting them in jail on similar technicalities -- now, that sounds like a lot of fun. A real intellectual challenge. And I love those.

Anyway, Keith Mars. He's done the best he could, really, given the fact that he got stuck with a conscience. It's why I've been protecting him. He's looked out for me his whole life, so I look out for him. Quid pro quo. It only makes sense. It's why I made sure the knowledge of Don Lamb's perfidy made it to the papers. Also, Dad's losing his job would have caused me to take something of a social hit, and I couldn't have that.

I mean, look what's happened to Duncan since –

Sorry. I'm getting ahead of myself again. I really have to stop doing that.

Lianne Mars, now, she's a different story. She gave birth to me, and she's a good cook, but otherwise, honestly, the woman is a waste of the air she breathes. For instance, she drinks. Not that I won't drink a beer or two when the social situation calls for it, but getting drunk is just such a bad idea. People do stupid things when they're drunk or high. And my life depends on not doing stupid things.

That's why I took those photos of Mom and Jake resuming their affair and made sure Dad got a few copies, anonymously mailed, of course. Mom tried to plead with Dad that it was a one-time thing, but Dad was too smart to believe that. (Dad may be the smartest person I know, except for myself, of course.) And so Mom was out the door. Sure, I'll miss her cooking, but really, not a whole lot else. I mean, she was already drinking to excess and sleeping around – and more importantly, doing so publicly, where everyone could see her. I'm hardly one to moralize, but if you're going to do things like this, don't do them in plain sight where you can embarrass everyone – especially daughters with big plans and long memories.

As for the Kanes: I got to know them as I was growing up. Lilly Kane was my entrée into the wonderful world of "high-society" among the Neptune High crowd. But most of them were kind of stupid – they looked down on most people who weren't originally from their precious '09er zip code. Most of them were, to put it bluntly, more or less worthless human beings. Possibly worth cultivating for their connections, but that's about it.

There are three types of people in the world: The useful, the potentially useful, and the useless. In general, you should to be "nice" to people in the first two classes. The useful are those like Logan Echolls – who's great in bed, and one of the few people around here smart enough to challenge my intellect – Weevil Navarro, Shelly Pomroy, and Cindy "Mac" Mackenzie.

Mac is potentially the most dangerous person at Neptune with her computer skills. Fortunately, she's socially inept, and while not easily motivated by promises of being able to "suck up to the '09er freakshow," she still likes the money they give her for their computer problems. So I can handle her. It also helps that she seemed to really need a friend or two, and I'm perfectly willing to do that. I'm already known to be "the nice one" among Neptune High's power elite, anyway. So Mac gets money and a "friend," and I neutralize a potential threat. Win-win.

As for potentially useful -- for example, even though Duncan's currently under investigation for having killed his sister, there's still a chance he wouldn't be convicted or even charged. So there's no percentage in ticking him off, unless I could make a major gain for myself by doing so.

He came up to me after he learned that the Balboa County Sheriff's Office had learned of his epilepsy, and asked me, wounded, if I'd told them. "Of course not," I lied. (They'd gotten an anonymous tip. Say hi to anonymous.) "But they said you told them –"

"Duncan," I said. "I couldn't lie to my father about it when he asked if you'd said anything. Besides, I know you're innocent. You could never hurt Lilly, even by accident."

"But what my father did –"

"Your father was trying to protect you because of this, true. I know it looks bad. But I have faith in you, Duncan. You'll ride it out."

And he believed me.

They always do.

And then there's the useless.

By the time of Lilly's death, I was already firmly established in my position of power – my only rival was my "best friend" Lilly. She'd already done everything she could for me.

It's not like I was planning to kill her, but I was planning to usurp her position. There can be only one. If she'd only stepped aside gracefully –

But she didn't.

And then came that day at the car wash – when she'd come storming up to me in such a bad mood that I'd said, "God, Lilly. Looks like you need Prozac."

And then that night, in her backyard.

When she got in my way.